


Line in the Sand

by Alania



Series: Ashes, Ashes [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Last Jedi - Fandom
Genre: And a salty little dash of smooching, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Here comes dat Force Bond, Movie: Star Wars: The Last Jedi, OH SHIT WADDUP, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Post-TLJ, Reylo - Freeform, prompt fill: steamy kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 11:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13189599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alania/pseuds/Alania
Summary: You’re tense. Pent up.” He warned as she rained blows down on him. “I didn’t come here to let you get your frustration out on me.”“Oh, really?” She yelled out, refusing to stop even to speak. “Then why did you come here, Ben? Why do you always come here? What do you think you’re going to achieve byhelping mewhen you know the only fight I have left isyou?”





	Line in the Sand

She was twenty solid minutes into training when she felt the soft shift, coupled with that subtle tug trying to pull her attention away. His presence was magnetizing, but she was _busy_.

So she continued working on her form regardless of the lack of a lightsaber in her hands. She used a regular wooden stick and swung it methodically, practicing her aim and control. Practice was nothing new to her, and it grounded her in ways that she desperately needed now. It gave her a purpose, much like strategy did for Poe or mechanical work did for Rose. So despite the fact that she knew he was there, just behind her and watching, Rey did not stop.

She probably should have.

“Luke would have complained about your crudeness of form.” She heard him say, in a tone that warred bitterness with amusement. “If he’d cared enough to teach you.”

The stick stilled in mid-air, and then slowly lowered to the ground. His barb stung, as she suspected it was meant to do. Still, she kept her back to him, and breathed in until her temper evened out.

“He did teach me.” Rey responded, the stick rising up once more. “The things that mattered.”

He did not protest, at first. She returned to her training and he watched in silence behind her, letting his mind fill in the blanks for a while. It was only a matter of time before his curiosity won out over his stubborn nature, though. So when he spoke again, she wasn’t very surprised to hear the question.

“What matters?”

Her form did not falter. She swung the stick even as she smiled a tiny, secretive little smile out of his sight. It was gone as quickly as it had come.

“The nature of the Force. What it is, how to find it. And he taught me that the Force doesn’t belong to the Light, or the Darkness. All those people in the past trying to split the Force apart were just making things worse for either side. Now it’s torn, jagged and unbalanced.” _Just like you_ , she thought to herself. It was about him. It was about her. 

She didn’t want to think about how torn and unbalanced they were, though. Better to stay clear of that topic.

“He also taught me that you make your own choices, and sometimes you fail. All that matters is that you don’t let it destroy you.”

He chuckled mirthlessly behind her. She could hear the uneasy shift of his body. “He should have taken his own advice,” He said. “The nerve of him, telling you that.”

Rey turned, finally. When her eyes settled on Ben, he was a strange dark spot on a bright yellow canvas. He looked so out of place, floating in the air as he sat awkwardly on a chair that she couldn’t see. The sight of it threatened to be charming, if she wasn’t careful.

She brought her stick up to point at his chest, stopping just an inch from touching him. “He didn’t tell me that. I learned that one by example. Not every lesson uses words.”

Ben met her eyes and held them, transforming in the wake of her admission. His expression had been sour as usual until she’d admitted that Luke’s failure was her greatest lesson, and what a _thrill_ it was to hear her say that. He looked like she’d just blossomed in front of him, and he was only just seeing her for the first time.

_Brilliant._ He thought to himself. It was the first time he refused to tamp down the bubble of admiration she so often managed to evoke from him. There was no denying how much he _liked_ the thought that Rey shared one more thing with him, through Luke. Disappointment.

Rey tilted her head, and her eyes widened just slightly as she watched his expression transform. When her lips parted in an exhale, he knew he was in trouble.

“Ben.” She whispered in wonder. “Is that. Are you - _smiling_?”

The expression, as faint as it was, disappeared back into a scowl the moment she’d pointed it out.

_”No.”_

Pure delight ran through Rey’s veins. She laughed up into the air, and then prodded at his chest again with the tip of her stick. “You’re in there. I can feel it. You think you can hide behind those sulking eyes and pouting lips, but I see you, sometimes. You must know by now that I know better.”

A lightning fast grip wrapped around the tip of Rey’s stick, holding it still against his chest. When she tried to pull away, he refused to let it go. She tugged, and he held fast. The game continued, gaining in strength and frustration, until Rey pushed forward harder just to prod at him. It should have gone straight through him, instead of the slight pressure she felt pushing back.

He did not fight the way it burrowed into his vest, pushing down the plush of his vest until the hard bone of his chestplate refused her. She let go, and the stick clattered uselessly to the ground.

“You don’t know me, Rey.” Ben reminded her, lifting in one sinuous movement that had him looming closer. “Not really.”

The closer he got, the more he felt like her enemy. From where he’d been sitting she could have almost forgotten that he’d betrayed and killed his family and so many other innocents. She saw him as a boy betrayed, a man broken and searching for answers, and a mirror to her own loneliness. She saw all of that, and then she saw him smile.

But now, encroaching on her personal space, she was easily reminded of the choice he’d made once he was free.

She tensed, and her fists tightened up at her side. “I don’t want to know you.” She told him, reminding him of where they truly stood. 

He looked down at the set of her brow and the tension in her lips, before deciding that this particular flavor of Rey was the one he liked best. When she was free, and her heart was light, she was beautiful. When she was sad, her heart bleeding for everything she’d lost, he wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms. But this... this was _power_. Nothing would ever match this.

For a brief, flickering moment, he smiled again. It was so faint that she was sure she’d imagined it. Then he nodded, and bent down to pick up her stick.

“Turn around.” He commanded. She scoffed at the impertinence of his demand, but he continued. “Luke may have taught you what’s important, but your form is still garbage.”

He wanted to teach her how to fight. As if she _needed_ his guidance. She took the stick back from him and twirled it expertly, scrunching her face up with doubt, and one eyebrow rose. “I think my form did just fine the last time two times you saw me fight.” She huffed out, self-satisfaction rising thick in her throat. 

Kylo’s eyelids fluttered as his eyes briefly rolled, and he reached out to turn her until her back was to him. She immediately prepared to move back, but his hands were flush against her waist to hold her still, and even though they weren’t solid they _worked_. The grip managed to still her, all right. 

He rose her arm up by the elbow, his hands cupping her skin just enough to get it moving. Every time he touched her, it felt like electricity was skittering across her veins, and the longer they remained in contact the more solid and real he felt. She’d recognized the danger in that long ago, and kept her distance as much as she could. The only exception had always been at night, when they were both too desperate to sleep and his body felt like a hard-won peace. She excused herself, then. No one made proper decisions in their sleep.

Now, standing in the middle of nowhere with a stick in her hand and his touch vibrating against her skin, she’d run out of excuses. Not even the boon of proper training would help her assuage the guilt over indulging in this thrill. And he hadn’t even recognized how limp and still she’d become yet.

“Move your grip here. Thumb curved more, lift - feel how much more power your swing has when you hold it like this. Go on.” He swung her arm for her, bouncing until she could feel the purpose behind each swing and the weight of it. Then he let her arm go, but his fingers lingered against her skin all the way up the soft underside of her upper arm, leaving a trail of heat so strong that it felt like it would leave a scar.

Her arm fell the moment his touch disappeared, and when she realized how he’d fallen silent, she dared to turn her head. He was looking down at her with a furrowed brow, his expression dark and unreadable. It was as if he was trying to figure something out, but hadn’t come to any conclusions yet.

She swallowed, hard enough for him to see the bob of her throat, and it made his brow relax.

“You were right.” Ben breathed out in a sigh. “Trying to teach you is a bad idea.”

Her pulse raced. “Horrible, really.”

Was she imagining things, or was his gaze flickering over and over down to her lips?

“I. Uh. I’m sure I’ll figure it all out on my own.” She tore away from his gaze and stared at the ground, determined to pull herself together. When she prepared herself to pull away, she realized a second too late that one of his hands was still firmly planted on her waist.

And it was solid, now. Solid enough to keep her there as he studied her. Resolve was firming up in his eyes, but she refused to look up at him and therefore couldn’t see it. She had no idea what he was thinking when he brought his hand up to cup her chin, and forced her face up to meet his. Even when her eyes finally turned up, with all the pride and stubbornness she possessed, she still couldn’t tell what she was looking at.

Ben looked like he’d made a discovery in the silence. He’d dug something out, new and worth exploring, but Rey was left out of his secrets. She only knew he’d come to a decision, or perhaps a few, in regards to her.

For a split second, she wondered if he was firming up their bond just to have the physical capacity to kill her. When the thought flickered through her mind, it almost made her burst out laughing - and she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why she found that so funny. 

“Show me.”

The urge to laugh died when he spoke again, his thick voice puncturing straight through her. It was clear by her expression that she had no idea what he wanted her to show him, but she jumped when she heard the violent hiss of his unstable lightsaber at his side and automatically reached for her own.

Nothing. There was nothing at her belt, coldly reminding her that they’d split apart the only lightsaber she’d ever owned.

_”Show me.”_ He repeated, lifting the blade of his saber up into a strikingly typical fighting stance. She’d seen him fight, wild and uncontrolled, and he’d never once stood like he was preparing to take a hit. His stance the way she saw it now looked almost identical to some of the crude drawings in the books she’d taken from the island, so stiff and rudimentary.

Basic lightsaber forms.

He was still trying to teach her.

“I don’t have anything to fight you with.” She reminded him with an audible bite to her voice. “My lightsaber is broken.”

His lip almost sneered when she’d called it _her_ lightsaber. Almost.

“Just use that stick. My lightsaber is as good as useless from here. You know I can’t hurt you.”

She folded her arms stubbornly up in front of her, taking offense at his words. “I wasn’t _worried_ about you hurting me.” She told him.

The stick came flying into her hands, almost smacking her in the face before she could catch it. And there, for another flicker of a second, nearly missed, was his smile.

When she slashed against him, she found that he was right about just how harmless he was. The stick fell against something solid enough to keep it from slicing through, but there was no hiss of heat or fire to indicate it was burning. It gave her leave to be as brutal as she wanted, which was a surprising relief. The more she pounded down at him, the more she realized that fighting someone - fighting _him_ \- was exactly what she needed.

“You’re tense. Pent up.” He warned as she rained blows down on him. “I didn’t come here to let you get your frustration out on me.”

“Oh, really?” She yelled out, refusing to stop even to speak. “Then why did you come here, Ben? Why do you always come here? What do you think you’re going to achieve by _helping me_ when you know the only fight I have left is _you_?”

Every word was coming out in a scream punctuated by a blow. She was pure fury, wild and untamed, and he could feel the weight of each attack despite how impossible that should have been. He thought he could feel her bearing down on the Force itself, as if she could beat at their bond until it was no longer as insubstantial, just so she could have the chance to tear at his body with her own two hands.

“What do you want?” She screamed, her temper rising to new heights. “Tell me. TELL ME.”

What happened next felt like a rhythm, in perfect sync with each step, as if it had all been planned in advance. His lightsaber shut down just as she brought her stick to meet it, and he reached out to take it in his hand instead. His fingers wrapped around it, trapping it in a solid grip that she could feel when she pushed down. There was nothing insubstantial about this. He was there, solid and demanding, proven by the way his hand slid around her waist in the next fluid movement. Her grip on the stick faltered, and it was enough to let him chuck it over his shoulder carelessly. She was against him now, trapped between the unforgiving plane of his chest and the locked arm around her waist. He bent down his head to her, and the flow of movement finally ended, pitting them face to face with one another. His breathing, hard and heavy, matched hers. Finally, feeling more exposed than ever, he told her.

“Just you.”

Rey’s head swam. She felt something inside of her break, shattering all of the reasonable thoughts until there was nothing left to do but give in. Her lips parted, and he was undone.

She couldn’t tell which one of them had surged closer first, but when they met, it didn’t really matter. Her hands were buried in his hair, gripping it hard enough to hurt. Her feet no longer felt the ground underneath them, as she rose up in the cup of his strong arms, lifted until she felt weightless and so utterly, ecstatically free.

His tongue was trying to make its way inside of her and her eyes widened at the filthy way it felt to let him in, to feel him explore her and taste her and show her just how badly they both wanted this. She groaned and it made him _shudder_ ; she could feel the vibration of it travel his entire body. He was just as hopelessly lost as she was.

That was a comfort. It was just what she needed to allow herself to indulge in desires so selfish they would make her crumble later. She grabbed desperately at the idea that Ben was giving in, just so she didn’t have to think about how she was giving in, too.

He pulled her lower lip out between his teeth and then sucked on it, before another surge of passion had him crashing against her one more time. His hands were thankfully holding her up against him, else they would have run down every inch of her just to make her body keen the way her mind already was. And that, she knew, was a step too far.

She pulled away from him and he _whined_ , but her lips just lifted to kiss the end of his nose, and trail back down to his chin until they burned from the ache of rubbing against stubble. His lips came back for her, unforgiving as they took her hostage and refused to let go.

Rey couldn’t remember what breathing felt like. She couldn’t remember if she even cared.

It was Ben who finally broke the kiss, twisting his head violently to the side and glaring at something she couldn’t see. His arms lowered her back to the ground and she whined just like he had, tugging at his hair in wordless demand. When she felt her fingers begin to lose traction on the hair, she realized he was pulling away in more ways than one.

And whatever they’d just shared, be it impossible and unacceptable, was slowly coming to an end.

He reached out to wipe his lips with the back of his glove, but he couldn’t wipe away the redness and swollen plump of them. He bit his bottom lip back between his teeth, and looked at her from a careful side glance.

Someone was there. Someone was talking to him, and it was probably urgent news about the whereabouts of the Resistance, and - and he was the Supreme Leader of the First Order - and she’d just -

She’d just -

She stepped away, stumbling back a few steps as the shame of what she’d done began to hammer its way into her heart. He swiveled his head back towards her when he realized she was falling back with regret, and ignored the present danger in his own situation to follow her. His arms just barely lifted, preparing to take her back.

“No.” She yelled, when she saw him coming for her. The strength of her words made him stop, but his arms remained as they were, reaching out, _begging_ for her to return to him. 

“Rey.” He whispered.

“NO.” Her scream broke with emotion when it rose in pitch, and her finger lifted up to point at him shakily. “This isn’t. You can’t. You made your decision. You can’t just ignore that.” She was crying, and she hated it. She hated how much he’d already made her cry.

“Don’t do this.” His voice was so level, so calm, and yet she could see the glimmer of tears carving paths down his cheeks, as well. “Don’t pull away from me now, Rey. Not this time.”

Her hands fell to her sides. There was an energy buzzing around her, a power that he craved almost as much as he craved her. She lifted her chin, proud and stubborn, and the stick she’d been using to fight lifted of its own accord and drew a line in the sand in front of her. When it fell again, she held her hand out.

This was not a request.

This was a demand.

His eyes fell to the hand, glaring at it while she waited for him to make his decision. She could see the exact moment the Dark wrapped its arms back around him, pulling him back where he thought he belonged.

He’d made his decision.

And she made hers.

The Force Bond shuddered as she willed all of her power at it, forcing it closed until all she could feel was the gentle hum of him, still waiting on the edge of her subconscious. She couldn’t shut him out completely, but she could come close.

She was just alone enough to let it destroy her, piece by piece, as she crumbled to her knees and buried her face in her hands. She knew he could still hear her, feel her, _know_ her, but she couldn’t bring herself to care anymore.

She sobbed until her tears burned away the pleasant sting of her tender, well-kissed lips. It felt like mourning, without the release of finally letting go.

She still wanted him. Even now.

But that would never be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt fill: Steamy Kiss
> 
> Thank you to my sweetie Aicosu for beta-ing this for me! I had to ruin the little roll I was on with falling titles because this one pretty much named itself. As usual, this fic does fall in line in order with the others of this series but it can also be read completely separately from them. And in case anyone is wondering, there's one more left in this series and it will probably come out sometime around the end of the first week of January. 
> 
> Thank you guys so much for reading and for all the support, I wish you the VERY BEST NEW YEAR EVER!!!


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